


I like the way you mentally calculate my every action

by rywaen



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, M/M, etc - Freeform, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rywaen/pseuds/rywaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time in Bruce's life when he hadn't felt safe around anyone...But then Tony Stark had to go and ruin everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I like the way you mentally calculate my every action

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisu10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/gifts).



> Written for a friend on tumblr. She got an art prompt for science bro cuddles and I thought I could do a fic for it too, and she didn't object, so here it is.

There was a time in Bruce's life when he hadn't felt safe around anyone. Or rather, no one was safe with him around. Equally, when he was young, it was closer to the former, thanks to his father and his learned behaviour to not trust anyone unless they proved themselves trustworthy. Over the course of his life, Bruce just tended to not be much of a people person. Ironic, considering his profession.

But for not being a people person, he loved the sensation of touch. He was, at his core, a tactile being. He learnt with his hands, felt and mapped out the world around him by feeling the surface and texture under his fingertips. And when he was young, he craved the feeling of skin on his own. At the very least, a hug or a hand in his own. But after the other guy took over, the act of another person touching him, feeling the skin that was no longer solely his own, it became taboo. Not just because of the fear and hesitation from others, but also in his own mind.

His own skin now felt like it carried a disease that could rip another person apart just from a single touch, something that wasn't actually that far off from the truth. Human touch became something of the past for him, like the child inside him who remembered the long days without a single hug or touch, wishing to sneak a brush of fingers against skin, just to get that feeling back. Something to hold onto for the long touch-less days ahead. It was his childhood all over again, in a sense. Trauma, sadness, depression, loneliness, everything returning like an old friend.

And until now, none of that had changed. The only people he touched were his patients in India or Turkey or any other city he found himself in for that span of time. No one touched him of their own accord, which was how he wanted it. Without touch, it was easier to control his rage. It was easier to keep up the constant anger that allowed him to live normally. Without that creature comfort, he didn't have to worry that human kindness would make his anger melt and fade away, making him more dangerous than any natural disaster on earth.

But then Tony had to go and ruin everything. It started with a handshake and an insult that sounded suspiciously like a compliment. At first, Bruce tried not to think much of it. There were a lot more pressing issues than philanthropist genius billionaire playboys who were oddly comforting to be around.

Next came the sharp stab to his side and the quick stare that caught his eyes, searching deep for any trace of green. Bruce felt both captivated and captivating in that moment, almost as if they were testing each other. Steve broke that moment as soon as he came in, but it had already happened, and nothing could change that.

Then came the blueberries, a brush of hands through food packaging, the faint reminder that these hands had already touched once before from the heat that warmed the bag. There had been no eyecontact, but that had almost made it worse. It made it feel like another test, and even worse, it felt like he had passed.

And finally, he had been the one doing the touching. Through layers of green muscle and metal armour, he caught Tony midair as he fell from a gaping hole in the sky. Truthfully, he still didn't remember much, but from what they were told, it had been pretty amazing.

Now, it was apparently okay to touch Tony. He brought him back to what once was Stark tower, gripping his shoukder every now and again in a friendly gesture when he was near enough. Fingers brushed when they handed each other tools or chemicals in the lab, sometimes covered in latex but mostly just bare fingers, skin against skin without a single word spoken to draw attention to it or to apologize. 

And amazingly, when Bruce wasn't even expecting it, he was the one touching Tony, seeking his touch, finding excuses to be near again. He felt like being near Tony was similar to being a moon that circled a planet. He was caught in his gravitational pull, always near and wanting to touch as much as he possibly could, but always a fixed distance away.

Until he was no longer a fixed distance. Suddenly he was against Tony, pressed against him at all angles, skin against skin, clothing the only thing separating them from practically becoming one being. He remebered being awake for at least two days straight, if not more, and he remembered Tony falling asleep face first on his notes, his body finally crashing and caffiene finally not being enough to keep him conscious any longer.

Bruce himself felt like he was going to pass out at any minute, but he didn't think it would be kind to leave Tony in that state. So he picked him up bridal style and had JARVIS direct him to Tony's bedroom. From there, he laid Tony's dead weight atop the probably million dollar sheets and moved to leave. Of course, he hadn't accounted for Tony's fingers to find his shirt and hold him in place in a fittingly iron grip.

Truthfully, at this point, Bruce had a few options but his sleep deprived mind could only make out one. So, he resigned to his fate and laid down on the plush sheets next to his lab partner/roommate.

And that, he supposed, was what led him to wake up in the position he woke up in tangled limb to limb with the one and only Tony Stark. There was no better word to describe it than cuddling. Plain and simple, they were two grown men with super siuts and giant green rage monsters lurking inside, and they were cuddling in their sleep.

Bruce laid still as he woke, trying to decide what the more practical move would be; to move away from him or stay still. They were touching in every way Bruce always feared and every way he always craved. Skin and skin pressed hot and together. The glow of Tony's artificial heart bright between them in the dark room.

He wanted so badly to stay where he was, maybe to never even move again, but he knew that could end badly. Tony would wake up and nothing would be like the dreams he frequently had with a nameless, faceless being of his childhood. It would never be that way because he wasn't a normal person, and he wasn't allowed to be close to someone like that.

He truly was diseased and everything he had taken to be signs that meant that Tony wanted his touch as well would just be the misinterpretations of a madman. He should move away and leave this place and never look back. He was a danger to everyone but himself. He would never have a fairytale ending, even if he didn't particularly want one.

He imagined himself shifting away, getting up from the luxurious bed and turning away, packing his bags, getting on a plane and never returning to this place of unrealistic dreams. It would be so simple, just as he had always done. But of course, like every cliche ever written, Tony woke up before he could decide and Bruce was met with sleepy brown eyes as the calculations ran through his head.

Tony stared at him for a few seconds watching his eyes intently before he spoke, his voice rough and slightly gravelly from sleep.

"It's cute when you mentally calculate how to act around me in the morning, honey."


End file.
